Death of a Salesgirl
by chocolatebearturk
Summary: Ella was quite sure she was going to die. Nate/Ella.


a/n: Yet another story written for Logan when she was having a bad day. I hope you remember and enjoy, Lo! Everyone else, feel free to enjoy as well.

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><p><strong>Death of a Salesgirl<strong>

_potr_**  
><strong>

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><p>Ella was quite sure she was going to die.<p>

There was no other explanation for the horrible, horrible cramping in her abdomen, or the way only her drawstring pants would fit comfortably right now, or how only curling up into the tightest ball she could manage would bring her any relief. (Groaning in agony, she found, also helped relieve some of the tension.)

She knew that there was a heating pad in the linen closet down the hall, and that it would sooth the aching in her lower half, but she honestly and truly did not think she had the strength to get up. And so she was going to die. It was as simple as that.

Her phone buzzed on her bedside table and she threw it the fiercest glare she could muster. _Nothing_ and _no one _was stupid enough to make her move but her damn cell phone. She knew that the cell phone was stupid because it did this every time she was at war with her body (because her uterus was clearly trying to secede from the union and she really didn't understand why her body didn't just let it happen already because—really?—this was too much), and no matter how many times she threatened to drop it in the toilet and flush vigorously, it managed to forget by the next month.

She reached for it. It was out of reach of her hand. She gave up and brought her knees closer to her eyes so they could continue their staring match.

As soon as she had managed to forget about her stupid phone and its stupid disobedience and her stupid need to shuffle closer to the end of the bed so she could reach the damn thing and yell at whoever was trying to contact her, it began buzzing again. This time it was a call and she knew that if she ignored it, whoever was trying to talk to her would end up bursting into her apartment, likely armed with a giant bowling pin and a menacing snarl.

She groaned and wiggled across the bed so she could pick up the cell phone and answer it. "What?" she demanded when she pressed the "accept call" button. She promised herself that she and her phone would have a very _long _talk, and maybe she'd give it a good bath before she went back to her misery.

"Okay, _whoa_," said the voice on the other end. She knew who it was, and on any normal day she would be sorry for snapping. But at the moment? He was poking the tiger. "Are you okay, Ell?"

"Do I _sound_ like I'm okay, Nate?" she asked waspishly. "Do I _sound_ like I'm anywhere in the realm of 'all right'? Because I can guaran-damn-tee you that if I sounded any _less_ okay than I feel at the moment, _you wouldn't be hearing anything_."

"Wha-"

"I'D BE DEAD!" she screamed into the phone. "Now if you have any brains in your head, you will not call me again today."

And with that, she promptly hung up the call... and burst into violent tears.

It was half an hour before Ella could really calm down enough to breathe properly, and by the time she had, she couldn't remember what she'd been crying about in the first place. She sniffled and managed to get her hiccups under control as she burrowed deeper under the covers. Another ten minutes passed before something twitched and she let out a moan of pain as the muscles in her lower half began to remind her of _just_ why she was miserable. She let out a little whimper as a knock on the door rang through her apartment.

Hurting too much to even think about getting up, she brought her phone to her face and dialed a number.

"Ella?" came his voice. He sounded a little desperate. "Ella, what's wrong?"

"Is that you outside?" she asked, ignoring his questions. She bit her lip and pressed a hand to her abdomen, hoping the pressure would relieve some of the pain.

"Yeah, you sounded really... upset, so I—"

"The door's open. I'm in my bedroom. Could you bring the heating pad back with you? I don't think I can really move right now." She hated the whine in her voice, but there was nothing she could do about it. Another spasmodic twitch gripped her and she let out a short groan.

"_Oh_," Nate said, and she could tell he understood. She could hear him opening the door, but he didn't hang up. "Just hang on a sec, Ell, I'm nearly there." She could hear his footsteps, both on the line and in the apartment, as he came down the hall toward her. There was the squeak of the hall closet opening. "Uh, where...?"

"Second shelf from the top," she said.

"Right."

There was another squeak as he shut the door and then he was there. It wasn't like he was outside and he walked in, or she heard him open the door. No, it was one second she registered the hall closet door closing and the next second he was leaning over her to plug in the heating pad. She looked up at him in a sort of daze.

"Hi," she said softly. He looked down at her and smiled a little.

"Hey,"

He turned on the heating pad once he had it plugged in and handed it to her so that she could put it where it would be most comfortable. She immediately slipped it under the covers and pressed it to her abdomen, sighing a little with relief as the pad slowly warmed against her. She smiled up into Nate's eyes and said, "Thank you. I mean it. I'm sorry I yelled."

He sat down carefully next to her and reached for her hand. "It's okay. You were clearly not in the mood to be bothered."

"Still..." She wrinkled her nose. "You couldn't know that. So I'm sorry."

"Well, I guess I'll just take the apology cheesecake I bought you back to the st—"

"Your apology is accepted."

Nate chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Okay, then. I'll go get it for you."

"No, wait," Ella said. She gripped his hand tight so he wouldn't go. "Stay. I don't need it just yet."

"Are you sure?" Nate asked. She nodded and he sat back down next to her.

"What was it you called for?" she asked. He flushed a little.

"It's really not important now, Ells," he said. "You're really not in any shape to..."

"Just tell me, Nate," Ella said impatiently. She shifted again so that she was sitting up more against the backboard of her bed-which was thankfully cushioned.

He blushed a deep red and coughed into his hand. "I, ah, sent you a text message asking if you wanted to go out with me on Friday. As in, _go out_. But then you didn't answer and I chickened out and called to tell you that you we didn't have to be anything more than friends and you yelled at me and I was just very, very scared so I had to come over to find out what was wrong and then I realized that you hadn't even gotten the message and _why _haven't you told me to shut up yet?"

Ella stared at him, her jaw slack. She tried to form words, but she just seemed to have lost the ability. Finally, she closed her eyes, cleared her throat, and said, "You wanted to ask me out? Like, on a date?"

"Yes, like on a date," Nate said. "Like on a romantic date, where I bring you flowers and you smile and giggle and put them in a vase and I take you out to a nice restaurant and we talk and laugh about how awkward it is and we were afraid we'd have nothing to talk about but we do because you're just so funny and interesting and amazing and I'll feel like an idiot for ever thinking that I'd have nothing to talk about with you. And then you'd drag me to a club and we'd dance until your shoes started hurting your feet and I'd take you home and walk you up to your doorstep and, Ella, you're supposed to interrupt me when I ramble. That was the deal, remember? I stop you from rambling, you stop me from rambling."

"But I like it when you ramble about this kind of thing," she blurted. She flushed. "I mean..." she started to say. But then she stopped and raised her chin. "Yeah. I do. I love it when you ramble about romantic stuff. It just makes me love you that much more than I did when you started."

"...what?" Nate said quietly. A smile started to form on his face. "Y-you love me?"

Ella hesitated for a second before she nodded. "Yeah, I do. I really do. I can't even begin to describe it. I mean, I could sit here all day and list reasons, but I just... love you." She bit her lip. "Is that okay?"

"_Okay_?" Nate asked. "Ella, that's... I..." Unable to articulate what he wanted to say, he leaned across the bed and, careful not to jostle the heating pad, he kissed her gently on the lips. He heard her gasp before she responded, pressing herself up into him. The heating pad was trapped between them and warmed his stomach as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He broke off the kiss for a moment, resting his forehead on hers. "God, Ells. I just... _love you_. So much."

They were silent for a long moment before Ella's face screwed up in pain and she removed one of her hands from around Nate's neck to press it to her stomach. "Ugh. I almost forgot about this."

"Where do you keep your Motrin?" Nate asked, smoothing hair away from her face.

"Cabinet over the stove."

"Will you be okay if I leave you for a minute to go get it?"

"I'm on my _period_, Nate, not _dying_," Ella reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll bring the cheesecake back, too. Maybe it will sweeten that sour attitude of yours." With that, he stood up and walked to the door. Before he could walk out, though, Ella's voice called him back.

"Nate?" He turned around and she gave him a smile. "I really do love you."

He grinned. "Yeah, uh-huh. You're just saying that because I brought you cheesecake."


End file.
